‘Enough of that,’ Idris said sharply, or at least as sharply as he said anything.
‘The Salvation Orbital’s kybernet is calling,’ Kris noted. ‘We’re docking there?’
‘It’s closest to the dig.’ Idris had found some survey maps, which showed various arboreal topologies: lowland forests, upland forests, supermarine forests, polar forests. And although ‘forest’ was a human term, it seemed fairly appropriate here. ‘There’s an elevator planetside there. It’s probably the closest we can get. Direct orbit-to-surface flight isn’t advised because there’s a craptonne of interference within the atmosphere. Partly the local lifeforms, partly the Originator ruins, they think. These are the biggest anyone ever found, except they’re all buried under the jungle, so no one’s quite sure how big.’
‘What sort of interference?’ Olli obviously didn’t like the sound of that.
‘Weird sorts,’ Idris said unhelpfully, but then sent over the data. Apparently the native life was constantly shifting the EM bandwidths they put out. Scientists reckoned they were competing to drown one another out or to locate their prey. But for this reason, the survey teams had recommended switching between algorithms to maintain communications.
‘Why can’t we ever go anywhere nice?’ the drone specialist complained. ‘You know, maybe this time I’ll stick in orbit. Where I won’t suddenly lose contact with my fucking legs.’
*
There were plenty of ships at Salvation Orbital. The elevator terminus was ninety per cent dock, ten per cent a rat run of doors and compartments surrounding the elevator. A single thronging establishment was ostensibly an eatery but seemed to be doubling up as a drug den, gambling emporium and synthetic brothel. The hub was crowded, all elbows and shoulders and the stink of unwashed bodies. Usually, Kris gathered, it was a ghost town. Right now, there were off-duty military and the crews of twenty ships all jostling for room. She saw the blue and white badge of the Nativists proudly displayed on collars, on chests, even tattooed across the bare back of one scrawny, drunken spacer.
‘This can’t just be down to the Locusts,’ Kris hissed at the others, as they pushed through the crowd. She had her slate out and was skipping through the mediotype channels, searching the news. ‘Blessed equity, there’s timing for you,’ she spat. ‘A Hegemony diplomat turned up at Berlenhof a few days ago suggesting that Hugh should cede Jericho. It should make good on its promises to evict everyone and hand the planet over.’
‘And why?’ Idris asked, incredulous.
‘It’s the Originator stuff. The Essiel claim to be the old guys’ heirs, or that’s how it translates, and I guess Jericho’s got ruins big enough to impress even them.’ Kris shook her head. ‘Look, I need to get us passage down to the surface. Solace, I don’t suppose your lot have any secret back way in?’
‘So now you’re happy to be working with the Parthenon?’
Kris cocked an eye at her. ‘Look, that was all Olli, and she’s not here.’
‘Olli had a point though,’ Solace said shortly. ‘How we came about, maybe how we could end up. And jokers like this . . .’ A wave at three tables of Nativist spacers, voices raised in a drunken chorus of The Green We Lost, The Fields of Home. ‘They spit on us, and it drives us further towards becoming that thing. I . . . I don’t know what to say to her, Kris.’
That made two of them, because Kris didn’t know what to say either. Except: ‘Wait, so you’re saying there is a secret Partheni handshake?’
‘I have made contact with Trine and they will authorize our descent.’
‘They can do that?’
‘They are senior researcher on the dig. They . . .’ Solace actually looked shifty, which was a new one. ‘I think they’re in some trouble of their own. You know Nativists and Hivers.’
Kris had seen plenty of anti-Hiver propaganda in her time. Boots stomping on knots of squirming bugs. Discontent about the hive intelligences winning free from their creators. Nobody wanted their appliances demanding independence. Or that was the Nativist message.
‘So are we just walking into more trouble, if we head down there?’
Idris barked out a mirthless laugh. ‘You know what we’ve got on the ship. I mean, trouble? Us? Who’d have thought it?’ There was a distinctly hysterical tremble to his voice.
Kris put a hand on his arm. ‘You want to wait on the ship? It’s no bother, Solace and I can . . .’